


Wake up

by soucieux



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 13:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soucieux/pseuds/soucieux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wake up soon,” He murmurs, lips grazing the other’s bobbing Adam’s apple before he sits back in his seat, raising his arms behind his head and interlacing his fingers to support his neck. His eyes flash green and blue, grey and gold in the light dancing across the room. The corners of his lips tug upward. “<i>Fight</i>, you stupid asshole.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake up

**Author's Note:**

> i'm new here  
> this was supposed to be part of something way bigger but I scrapped it sorry it doesn't make sense

The curtains ripple as a soft breeze wafts through the open windows, ushering in the scent of damp pine that mingles with the perfume of a dried lavender bouquet on the nightstand, filling the stark room and pushing out stale air. It’s quiet sans birds chirping outside and labored breathing coming from the man in the bed. A faded quilt tucked under his chin hides the standard sheet set, and he is surrounded by pillows, only one of them infirmary-issued. Overgrown fringe falls across his face, warm against his pallor.

Another man sits in a chair pulled beside the bed, mouth set in a firm line and eyebrows furrowed. He methodically dips a small towel into a basin of fresh water, wringing it out before pressing it against the sleeping man’s sweating face. His broad shoulders cast a long shadow over the bed as he leans over the other man, linen shirt pulling away from a lean frame to expose wiry muscles and unblemished tanned skin. 

He pushes the sleeping man’s hair back and places the damp towel on his forehead. He lets his fingers trace the outer shell of delicate ears and rest on the pulse point of the temple before moving them softly along the other’s jawline. His hand cradles the other’s face, a thumb brushing down a long, sharp nose to stroke pale choked lips. He tilts his head, hair falling lazily across his vision. “Wake up soon,” He murmurs, lips grazing the other’s bobbing Adam’s apple before he sits back in his seat, raising his arms behind his head and interlacing his fingers to support his neck. His eyes flash green and blue, grey and gold in the light dancing across the room. The corners of his lips tug upward. “ _Fight_ , you stupid asshole.” 

The magic phrase. The other stirs, eyelids fluttering. 

Sudden concern and surprise belie the sitting man’s smirk and posture. He leans forward, knuckles white as he grips the sheet, body coiling up tight. He furrows his eyebrows and clenches his teeth, eyes boring holes into the man who sleeps. 

He waits, breath stuck in his throat. 

“I heard you, Eren,” the man in bed rasps finally, quietly, breath shallow. “Feel you staring, too.” His eyes flicker open as Eren grunts and pulls back. The towel is removed from his forehead, and a warm hand slips between the sheets and under his sweaty back, helping him push his upper body against gravity. “Fuckin’ hurts,” he grits, and cool glass presses against his lips and cooler water relieves his throat. 

“You’re more bruised than not. Cracked ribs, broken arm, internal abdominal bleeding. Your right leg-” Eren's voice cracks. 

The man in bed pulls back from the cup with a sharp intake of air. “Hurts the worst. Shit.” His eyes burn yellow in the glare of the setting sun, shut tightly as he hisses, his leg cramped and distorted as it throbs and tingles. “Set wrong or something.” He cries out unintentionally, body roaring with pain as he reflexes forward to grab his leg. 

“ _Jean!_ ” Eren holds him back. Jean looks at him and a strangled noise bubbles in his throat, eyes wide as his weight slumps against the arms supporting him. Eren stares through the lavender bouquet, his teeth pulling at his lower lip. “You’ll pull at your wounds, idiot. You look like a ragdoll with all the stitches you’ve got.” 

Jean begins to shake, gaze pulling toward the ceiling. 

It’s quiet sans birds chirping outside and labored breathing coming from the man in the bed.


End file.
